


In Uniform

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Uniforms, because Roxas is a shorty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 11:55:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Axel (god, you hope that’s what his name is) is currently digging through a sea of midnight black leather cloaks, slacks, and tank tops, every few seconds picking one up in hopes of finding one that actually fits you.</p>
<p>Sadly, he has not found anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Uniform

“Too big… oh man, _way_ too big; too big, too big…”

This has been going on for at least twenty minutes.

Axel (god, you hope that’s what his name is) is currently digging through a sea of midnight black leather cloaks, slacks, and tank tops, every few seconds picking one up in hopes of finding one that actually fits you.

Sadly, he has not found anything.

“Too big. What a surprise,” he snorts, holding up a cloak to your shoulders. It drapes over your feet, pools on the ground, the sleeves reach to nearly your knees instead of the tops of your thighs. You are silent, though. Wait to be told what to do next.

“Here,” he starts up again, after a long few minutes of digging in some kind of box filled with more blackness. Gloves. “These ones look alright. Try them on.”

He hands them to you and you dumbly stare at him for a moment before wiggling your fingers into each leather glove. They’re cool between your fingers, and surprisingly, this pair actually fits around your hands and doesn’t slide off when you lower them to your sides. You feel a bit more clothed now, sporting the leather gloves and a pair of boxers. They had you stripped of your old clothes even before Axel started searching for your new ones.

“Alright! Gloves, check. Okay, shirt, let’s get you a shirt; you’re probably uncomfortable feeling so vunerable, eh, Roxas?”

You nod, (you don’t really know why, though) tuck your head down as Axel moves to dig through a pile of shirts. The first one he pulls out is much much too big, and he quickly wads it up and tosses it to the side. Again and again this process occurs, until he yanks out one fine, slender black tank and tosses it to you. You just barely have the reflex to grab it out of the air before it hits you.

“Go ahead, try it on. The shirt isn’t standard to the uniform, but it beats having that zipper snap at you when you move around against it.”

You slide into the shirt, silently thanking the taller redhead with a nod as you brush the tank top the rest of the way down your stomach. You stand a little straighter, and wiggle your bare toes. Axel sets to digging though a new pile; pants.

He never finds a pair that fit you exactly, but he does find some that fit around your waist (almost just barely) though they pool a bit at your feet. “It’s fine,” he explains, looking down at the puddles of black fabric at your heels, “if it bothers you too badly, you can tuck them into your boots. See?” He holds his cloak aside to show you that he, indeed, does the same thing.

The boots take awhile to dig up, because you’ve got such small feet compared to the other members— you’re much, much younger. The only one who’s (apparently) near your age is the blue-haired one referred to as… some name with a “Z”. But even still, he’s got himself a bit more size compared to you.

Axel manages to find a pair that work for you, but they’re not tall and lean like his. You don’t mind; you’ve never liked high-top boots like that, anyway. You nod in thanks, but Axel sighs with a tired smile.

“Last thing, I promise. The coat is pretty much the only thing you actually _do_ need, so we’ve _gotta_ find you one,” he explains, going back to that massive coat pile. You sigh and shuffle your feet, watching, waiting.

He pulls up a few that are too big in very obvious ways, but the sixth one he pulls out of the pile works. It’s a little loose at the waist and it swings a bit more freely at the bottoms of your shins, but Axel grins in only the highest sorts of pride, nodding as he gives you a once-over.

“Works for me! Works for you, right?”

You nod. You don’t really know how to do much else— your voice seems lost, you don’t remember how to form words. You doubt you’d even have the time, here with Axel. He talks a lot.

Axel grins nonetheless, grabs up your hand in his large one and begins dragging you out of the room (without cleaning up the horrid mess of clothes he dumped out of all those boxes, you notice) whilst chattering away about missions and schedules and boring meetings and the likes.

You don’t really pay attention, but you think you can get used to this. Maybe.

When Axel takes you into this large, white room, where other people are seated up upon pedastals that reach high high _high_ up into the air instead of simple chairs, you feel a little nervous, that’s for sure. But they already seem to know you, they know your name, and they assign you a number and a title and they know the thing you’re good at; your Keyblade skills. They’re all looking at you. You’re important here.

You take back what you thought earlier.

This—having people who know you, having just one who cares enough about you not to leave your side— is something you can certainly get used to. Even if it means wearing this hot-as-balls leather every day for the rest of your life.


End file.
